“That right?” Kurt said blandly, not letting up his pace. It was twilight, and the sodium lamps in the parking lot were sickly yellow. The cars cast long shadows.
“I did a little research on you,” Trevor said. “I found this Special Forces website, and I posted a notice. I asked if anyone knew a Kurt Semko.”
Kurt gave Trevor a sidelong glance. “You discovered that I don’t exist, right? I’m a mirage. I’m in the Witness Protection program.”
I was looking back and forth between the two of them, watching this verbal tennis match, bewildered.
“And someone posted an answer the next day. I didn’t know you had a dishonorable discharge from the army, Kurt. Did you know that, Jason? You vouched for him. You recommended him.”
“Trevor, that’s enough,” I said.
“But did you know why, Jason?”
I didn’t answer.
“How much do you know about the-what’s the term they used?-‘sick shit’ Kurt got into in Iraq, Jason?”
I shook my head.
“Now I see why your friend is so willing to do your dirty work,” Trevor said. “Why he’s so willing to be your instrument in your little reign of terror. Because you got him a job he never would have gotten if anyone did a little digging.” He looked at Kurt. “You can threaten me all you want. You can try to sabotage me. But in the end, both of you are going down.”
Kurt stopped, came close to Trevor. He grabbed Trevor by the T-shirt and pulled him close.
Trevor drew breath. “Go ahead, hit me. I’ll see to it you don’t have a job to go to tomorrow morning.”
“Kurt,” I said.
Kurt lowered his head, moved right in so their faces were almost touching. He was just about the same height but much broader and much more powerful-looking. “I have another secret I want to share with you,” he said in a low, guttural voice.
Trevor watched him, wincing, waiting for the blow. “Go ahead.”
“I killed Kennedy,” Kurt said, letting go of Trevor’s T-shirt abruptly. Trevor’s shoulders slumped. The fabric of his LIFE IS GOOD T-shirt remained bunched.
“Trevor,” Kurt said, “are you sure?”
“Am I sure of what?”
“Your shirt, I mean.” He pointed at Trevor’s T-shirt. His index finger circled the LIFE IS GOOD logo. “Are you sure life is good, Trevor? Because I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”
44
When I got home, Kate was still awake. She was clicking away on her laptop, surfing a tsunami of trivia on the Internet, digging deep into movie adaptations of Jane Austen novels.
“Aren’t you the one who said that watching movie versions of Jane Austen’s novels was like hearing a Beethoven symphony played on a harmonica?” I said.
“Did we ever rent Clueless? You might be into that one. It’s Jane Austen’s Emma, but it’s set in a Beverly Hills high school and it stars Alicia Silverstone.”
“You know they’re remaking Pride and Prejudice with Vin Diesel as that guy?”
“Mister Darcy? No way!” She was appalled.
“Way. In the first scene, Vin drives his Hummer through the plate-glass window of this English manor house.”
She glared at me. “I asked Kurt to take a look at the cable,” she said. “As you suggested.”
“That’s nice.”
“He’s coming over tomorrow after work. I also invited him to stay for dinner.”
“For dinner?”
“Yeah, is that a big deal? You’re always saying I exploit him-I thought it was only right to invite him to break bread with us. Or papadams, at least. Maybe you can pick up some Indian, or Thai, or something.”
“I thought your sister’s coming tomorrow.”
“I thought she and Kurt might enjoy meeting each other. Ethan would definitely love Kurt. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?” I could think of a couple of reasons, like she was still spending too much time with Kurt. Or like I couldn’t see Kurt and St. Barths Susie having a whole lot to talk about.
Or like he scared me.
“Um, Kate, I think we need to talk.”
“Isn’t that my line?”
“It’s about Kurt.”
I told her what I should have told her before.
“How come you never said anything?” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said after a long pause. “Maybe because I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? About what?”
“Because if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t believe that. Maybe he gave you a leg up, but it’s you who’s doing the job so incredibly well.”
“I think maybe I was afraid that if I told you, you’d want me to just-shut up and go along. Put up with it.”
“Why in the world would I want that?”
“Because of this.” I waved around the room, just as she’d once done, indicating the whole house. “As long as Kurt was helping me up the greasy pole, I knew we’d have this. And I know how much this house means to you.”
She blinked and shrugged. Then I saw the tears at the corner of her eyes.
More softly, I said, “And I knew that as soon as I went up against him, I’d be putting all this in jeopardy.”
She bowed her head, and a few tears dripped to the bedsheets. “So what?” she said, her voice muffled.
“So what? Because I know how important this house was to you.”
She shook her head. Her teardrops were making big damp splotches. “You think that’s what I care about?”
I was silent.
She looked up. Her eyes were red. “Look, I grew up in a huge house with servants and a pool and tennis court and horseback-riding lessons and ballet classes and winters in Bermuda and spring vacations in Europe and summers on the beach. And all of a sudden, poof, it was gone. We lost the house, the Cape house, I got yanked out of school…It was really hard to lose all that. And yeah, I miss it, I won’t lie to you. But that’s not what I’m about.”
“Hey, correct me if I’m wrong here, but aren’t you the one who was looking at houses on Realtor.com?”
“Guilty. Okay? Did I want our kids to grow up in a house that has room to run around in, and a yard, and all that? Sure. Did it have to be this nice? Of course not. I love this place, I won’t deny that. But I’d give it up in a second if we had to.”
“Please.”
“I didn’t marry you because I thought you’d make me rich again. I married you because you were real. All those phonies I went out with, mouthing all that crap about Derrida and Levi-Strauss, and then all of a sudden I meet this guy who’s got no pretense, no phoniness, and I loved it.”
“Levi-Strauss,” I began.
“The anthropologist, not the jeans,” she said, shaking her head, knowing I was about to poke fun at her. “And I loved your energy. Your drive, your ambition, whatever you want to call it. But then you started to lose it.”
I nodded.
“You can see how you’ve changed, can’t you? The confidence? You’re not settling anymore. I admire you so much, you know that?”
Tears were running down her cheeks. I flicked my eyes at her, looked down. I felt like a jerk.
“Because you know something? When I was born, I was handed the keys. And you had to earn them.”
“Huh?”
“I was given everything, all the advantages, all the connections. And what have I done with them? Nothing.”
“Look what you’re doing for the Haitian quilt lady,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said miserably. “Once in a while I help out some poor artist. That’s true. But you-look at where you’ve come from. What you’ve achieved on your own.”
“With the help-”
“No,” she said fiercely. “Without Kurt. That’s what makes me happy. Not all the toys we can afford to buy now. Like that ridiculous starfish.”